An Ocean Away
by helloalexwinn
Summary: A reworking of Avari20's story, Clarity, from Illya's perspective. This story was written with permission from Avari20.


Disclaimer: The characters belong to Guy Ritchie, and all of the dialogue belongs to Avari20 and the story "Clarity".

Notes: This story is a reworking of Avari20's story "Clarity". I was really inspired to write Illya's point of view, and Avari20 was kind enough to let me! So a massive thank you to Avari20! I had so much fun writing this story! Thank you for letting me play with it, and answering all of my questions. And I hope the rest of you enjoy the story!

* * *

It's late and Illya is rather cold when he plays the recording from the bug in Napoleon's shoe. Normally he would tune into Gaby's ring, but she hasn't been wearing it lately (he knows because it hasn't moved position in several days, and his only recordings are the vaguest of noises). It unnerves Illya to no end, and when he returns to the safe house in New York, he is going to have a nice little chat with her about always wearing that ring. But, until then, the shoe bug will have to do.

Illya is in no way prepared for what he hears.

"Can I assume Peril is the father?"

Illya's heart stops, his lungs seize. Oddly, he remembers drowning in the water, feeling angry and hopeless for having lost in such a pitiful way. It takes a moment for everything to begin working again and, even then, his brain feels several meters behind, still trying to wrap itself around Napoleon's question.

Was it true? Was Gaby… pregnant? And with his child? Illya's heart beat a little bit faster at the thought. He was going to be a father. A _father_. Was this real? Gaby's words confirm it, though her tone confuses him.

"I am having a child with a Russian KGB agent. How lovely."

Her tone and pitiful laugh kill Illya. She is upset about this? How? Doesn't she know a family is something he has always wanted? Then again, had they ever discussed family? He knew Napoleon knew he wanted a family, but that was because Napoleon knew his past in more depth than Illya cared to admit. Napoleon knew several dark secrets and, because he knew, he understood Illya quite well. Illya had never spoken to Gaby about his past, and he wasn't even sure if she had been briefed about his past. Perhaps to some slight extent she had, if for no other reason than to better know her teammates.

They are an ocean away now, but when he gets back, Illya resolves to tell her about his past. He wants her to understand him like Napoleon understands him, or how he understands her. He and Napoleon have all the cards, know all the details, and Illya thinks it is only fair if his love knows some of his secrets — and doesn't learn them from a file.

But, for now, ignoring Gaby's heartbreaking words, Illya allows himself to celebrate a little, to smile and ponder what awaits him with fatherhood.

* * *

It is several weeks after the conversation that the child — Illya has to remind himself to breathe whenever he thinks the word — is mentioned again.

"I'm keeping it," Gaby says, and even though he is so very far from her, Illya grins and imagines wrapping her in his arms and telling her how much he loves her and thanking her a thousand times over for giving him a family. Of course, he would never truly do that, because he is Illya Kuryakin, and the only emotion that he ever lets dominate his actions is anger, but that's more of a psychotic episode thing than an expressive thing.

Napoleon grunts in response, and his reaction is enough to give Illya pause. There is something he is missing, some important detail that he missed because he couldn't see their faces or hear them quite as clearly as he would like or because this is a recording and he might've missed something said earlier.

"Whatever he does about it will be his own decision," Gaby says, and Illya realizes that he is the reason for pause. Because he is tied to the KGB. He is tied to Russia. He is tied to a force behind the Iron Curtain, and Gaby… Gaby would never again live behind _that_.

He wonders, for half a second, if she even realizes that she is his home now. He would forsake everything if it meant a life with her. It would hurt to leave Russia, to leave the KGB even, but it would be worth it. For her. For Gaby. It would be worth it for their child, their future together.

He could still be part of U.N.C.L.E without being part of the KGB, couldn't he? An agent solely there for that purpose? Napoleon is tied to the CIA, and Gaby to MI6, but Illya would not mind working only for U.N.C.L.E. He has had enough problems with the KGB in the past six months alone, always pestering him for information about the Americans and the British, posing threats about the Gulag and his father. Illya was fairly certain his current mission was punishment from the KGB for not giving them information on U.N.C.L.E. The fact of the matter was, there wasn't much to be said about the organization at this point. There were three of them, working together towards a common cause. Surely even Napoleon and Gaby understood that?

"My child doesn't need a father."

Illya's heart stops once more, and when it restarts, it is more cracked than it already was.

* * *

It takes Illya several days to fully understand what Gaby said. Not that it wasn't hard to understand, but the fact that she was willing to raise her child without a father was a painful fact his mind couldn't understand. Surely she knew _enough_ about his history to know he wouldn't want his own child growing up like he did — fatherless. That Gaby was more willing for her child to grow up without a father than to live behind the Iron Curtain — which they wouldn't — hurt.

Illya's emotions danced between the well known rage and the long buried sorrow.

* * *

The rage wins.

Every second away from Gaby kills Illya a little more, fills his thoughts with images of Gaby and the child laughing without him, playing without him, _living_ without him. It is enough to drive even the Russian mad, to the point where Illya turns desperate. Getting back to Gaby becomes his top priority, more important than the arms dealer he's been assigned to eliminate here in Russia. Illya is tempted to kill the man here and now, even if it is sloppy and would only create more problems. Anything to get back to Gaby, to their child. Anything to make sure that Napoleon stops imagining himself the child's pseudo-father and remembers what he really is: nothing.

(Illya knows, deep down, that Napoleon is not in fact nothing to his child, because he has become something akin to a friend, and a vital part in his and Gaby's lives. Still, Illya's vision turns a bit read whenever he thinks about Napoleon, Gaby, and his child living in upstate New York. Without him.)

* * *

It is the middle of the night and several weeks later that Illya finds himself back in upstate New York, exhaustion and pain rolling over him in waves (exhaustion because he hasn't slept properly since Gaby's comment, and pain from a fight in Russia where somebody got a bit too close with a knife). Part of him wants to do nothing but make sure Gaby is safe — that their child is safe — and then go to bed because he is so _tired_ and his ribs ache to the point of agony.

But when he pulls up to the safe house, he sees the lights are still on, and the anger hits him like a flood. Napoleon's words, Gaby's words, they flood Illya and leave him seeing red. His plans change immediately, and he finds himself no longer tired. No, he needs to make sure Gaby knows that he will be there for her and their child, that he wouldn't abandon them like her father had, and most definitely not be sent to the Gulag like his own father.

He also needs to make sure that Napoleon Solo knows very well that he, Illya Kuryakin, is the child's father, and that the Cowboy would be wise to remember his place in the situation.

So, rather than slipping into the safe house quietly and immediately going to bed, Illya slams the door open, letting the bang echo throughout the house.

It is not even a second later that Napoleon is there with his pistol drawn, and Gaby is holding a knife, entirely ready to fight. It takes them a minute to realize it is him.

"Peril," the Cowboy greets. "You look like you just took on a bear."

Illya's eyes flick to his, narrowing dangerously. "You," he growls, finger pointed and languages slurring in his head. "We will have words."

He holds Napoleon's eyes for a second longer, before calming enough to look at Gaby without pure rage in his eyes. She didn't look any different than nine weeks ago, though her dress didn't stick to the curves of her skin, so Illya couldn't see if their child had begun to change her body yet.

Their child. Illya let the thought calm him a little more.

Illya took several steps towards her, watching as she looked ready to dart away. "Put the knife away, my love," he says, trying to keep his voice gentle, but also firm enough to let her know there was no room for argument.

He wisn't expecting her to tighten her grip.

Illya hides a sigh. "Put it away," he says, offering his hand. Though he would never harm her and he is fairly certain she will not attack him, Gaby doesn't let go of the knife. Playing his hand would be the only way to get the knife away from her, then. "We do not want you having an accident."

Both Gaby and Napoleon suck in a breath when they realize that he knows, but it's Gaby who speaks first. "You heard somehow."

Illya fights the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course I did."

"Did you bug me?"

Illya almost reminds her of the bug in her ring, but quickly realizes this is exactly why she hasn't been wearing the ring. She didn't want him to know, and so she had taken off the one tracker he left with her in order to keep her secret.

Instead, Illya snorts. "The Cowboy must learn to change his shoes from time to time."

"These are new," Napoleon protests, but Illya quickly silences him with a look.

"You," he snaps. "No talking." Focusing back on Gaby, he held out his hand once more. "The knife."

It takes Gaby several long seconds before she hands it to him, hilt first. Once the blade is safely in his hand, Illya flicks it away without a second thought, sinking it deep into the wall. His gaze remains entirely on Gaby, and when her eyes meet his, Illya both loses and finds himself all over again. A giddy feeling develops in his stomach, but he doesn't let it rise to the surface. Not with Napoleon still lurking behind them.

"A child," he murmurs, and actually saying the word gives him a rush of excitement. He hadn't dared speak it, not when he was so close to people who wanted to hurt him. No, this would be his biggest weakness, and though he wouldn't let anyone ever touch it, he much preferred nobody knew about it. Apparently, Gaby also knew this, and had opted to hide it from him as well. "You would keep it from me."

"No," she said. "No, I wouldn't."

Illya didn't believe it. He had heard her words, had heard her say that her own child didn't need a father. He fought down the urge to flinch.

"You believe I will abandon you," he accuses. "Our baby."

He knows everybody heard the way the word slipped off his tongue, how his voice changed and all of his thoughts and feelings were bared in front of him. All from one single word. Illya doesn't mind — there is a difference between "child" and "baby" and he hadn't dared to think of that particular word, but saying it aloud now is a shock to his senses that leaves him even more giddy than before.

"Others have done so for less."

Distantly, Illya wonders if part of love means being able to hurt your love in the worst possible way. He isn't sure if Gaby even realizes that she's killing him with her words. He knows — he _knows_ — that this isn't easy for her, to be having a child with a Russian KGB agent who has a history of raged filled violence. To be having a child after she had been abandoned by her own father when she was young. Even so, surely Gaby realized he would never leave their child. He would never let a soul harm their child, so long as their was life in his heart and air in his lungs.

This child was _theirs_ , a little bit of him and a little bit of her. Nobody would take it from him.

Illya took another step so he was directly in front of Gaby, bringing a hand to touch her face. He had missed touching her.

"And others have fought wars to protect their loved ones," he says, his thumb moving deftly across her cheek. "Who better to fight such a war than a former KGB agent?"

Gaby's eyes widened, shock evident on her features. "Former?"

Illya shrugs. Technically he isn't a former KGB agent — the moment he declared _that_ , they would be at his door with the task of eliminating him — but he had managed to put some distance between the agency and himself. Aligned himself a little more with U.N.C.L.E, Gaby, and Napoleon. His last night in KGB headquarters had included informing Oleg of his successful mission, then tricking one of the newer grunts into picking a fight that quickly escalated to a brawl, and the brawl had turned into a riot when Illya was able to discreetly shoot Oleg in the leg. Really, Illya was already rather fond of the memory. Even so, it hurt, having to give up his entire country, but it was worth it. Worth it for this little chop shop girl and the life inside her.

"I am a family man, my love."

"But your parents…"

"Made their choices," he says immediately. He has thought about them often in the past weeks, and he has found that he does not care what they think of his decision, because it is his own decision to make, and he is happy. "I must make mine. I have made mine."

"You'll regret it," Gaby says, and Illya smiles. Perhaps a bit, he thinks. Perhaps not at all.

"Do not question my methods, little chop shop girl," he says, bringing her closer, finally eliminating all the space that had been between them. Why had their been so much space between them? They should've been this close from the beginning. "I love you," Illya says once Napoleon is out of the room.

"Oh, Illya," Gaby sighs, and her voice is caught between emotions again. Perhaps that is love; perhaps being in a constant state of worry and joy, being able to both build your love up and wreck them with a single sentence. Constantly between two emotions and not sure which one wins. If it is, Illya does not mind it in the least. "I love you."

* * *

Thank you guys again for reading! Please leave reviews, I love reading them! And, I've probably said this one thousand times but I'll say it again, thank you Avari20 for letting me do this. Thank you.


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